What Keeps Me Here
by MrSpockify
Summary: The angels are leaving Heaven and joining Death, and with it they are losing their sanity. They are killing people relentlessly, and Sam and Dean need Castiel's help to see what's going on, but doing so puts the angel in danger. Castiel has to preserve his sanity for as long as possible, and that means finding out and holding on to what keeps his faith strong. Destiel AU
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **This idea just kind of popped into my head a while ago. I love Death, and I love the angels, and I was like hey... what if?

But anyway... Not much more to say here, so... Yeah.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Death is not a cool embrace after a war. He is not a comforting hand to hold as you are eased into the darkness. He will not come to you when you are lost and guide you to somewhere safe. When you call His name, Death will not appear with a welcoming home for you to return to.

Then why, they ask, did the angels abandon their Father for Him? Why did they run away to join Him with newfound pride, wanting only to please? Why would they leave such a warm and welcoming family?

Because Death does not come in the same form as God. He is distant and quiet, and does not come when called. He does not often come when needed, even. He is nothing like a true Father, so how could the angels possibly follow Him?

But it does not matter to the angels that Death hardly recognizes them. This only means they must try harder to earn His respect. This gives them a chance to become something greater. Death is better than God, and following Him will make the angels better as well. Death is older and wiser and more powerful. He can end what God has created. He has the final word.

So the angels turned their back on Heaven and ran. They left in small groups in the beginning, but are swarming towards their new purpose now. There are stragglers; they are the ones who are holding on tight to something. But everyone knows, including God, that every angel will cave. In the end, they will all join Death.

* * *

_Cas, where are you?_

Dean's voice stuck out in his mind, pushing past the ramblings of all of his brothers and sisters. Castiel ignored the prayers for the hundredth time, longing to touch down on earth, just to tell Dean _why_ he wasn't coming. But he knew that would only make things worse. He couldn't bring any attention onto the hunter. They would come for him.

Castiel stood alone in a part of Heaven he called his own. No one ever came here, where the silence was as chilling as the breeze. It blew over his shoulders gently, ruffling his hair. There were bare trees all around, and the dirt beneath his feet was cold and frosty. It was lonely and vast, but this place was calming.

Here, all of the angels' voices were mostly muffled, too far away to be much of a bother. The wind made music when it drifted through the branches, rustling the few crunchy leaves that still clung to life. The air was clear and cool, and Castiel could close his eyes and let himself get lost in his thoughts without worrying if someone would catch him.

Right now, he was thinking about the past, because he didn't want to focus on the future. He thought about his family and friends, from Heaven and earth. He remembered the last time he saw Dean and Sam, when they called him down to have a beer and watch a movie. He didn't have any pressing matters at the time, so he agreed and sat down to join them. Really, he hadn't paid attention to the movie at all. He couldn't even recall the title or plot. But he could remember that Sam thought it was hilarious, and Dean had fallen asleep before it was over. That mattered more than the movie, anyway. It was real.

That was another reason Castiel loved being in this secluded forest. No one could hear his thoughts, so no one could know. And now, that was the most important thing on his mind. He couldn't let others see where Sam and Dean were. They'd find them.

He knew something was happening to the angels, he just didn't know exactly what. They were leaving, that he knew. Heaven was quiet now, and still, since they had begun to leave. He wasn't sure where they went, or why, but he knew what they were doing. It made him… Sad? Angry? He wasn't sure. But it made him feel _something_.

Worry. That was it. He felt worried, for himself, for other angels, and for the humans. The angels were leaving Heaven and joining a cause of some sort, and that meant they were killing off humans.

Castiel was trying to stay as far away from the dealings as possible. That meant becoming isolated and quiet, staying out of everyone's way. He didn't even hardly observe anymore; he would have to get close for that.

He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them from his mind. Castiel couldn't bear the thought of giving Sam and Dean away to the angels, letting them slaughter the hunters for some unknown purpose. It worried him more than anything.

_Cas? Please…_

Castiel closed his eyes and breathed out into the chilly air. No matter where he went, Dean's voice would follow. He always did pray too loud.

_I can't_, he wanted to reply, just once. Leaving Dean without an answer was what hurt the most. He would hear the hunter's asks for forgiveness, even though there was no need. _Did I do something wrong, Cas? I'm sorry… _Dean would say, and Castiel would force himself to stay away. It was nothing on the hunter's part. It was the angels.

A whisper made its way over Castiel. He almost thought it was a breeze, but his name was carried along with it. It was not Dean, nor any angel he had heard before. The voice was different. It was… soothing. He wanted to hear it again, but it had come and gone. Castiel laid one of his hands on the spot beneath his ear, feeling where the whisper had touched. It had been warm and comforting, though he wasn't sure why.

He ignored the whisper, and made his way to another section of Heaven, hoping to find a friend, any friend, who was still there. He kept Sam and Dean out of his mind, careful of what he thought. It wasn't hard, though. He was mostly wondering about the new, niggling sensation he felt at the back of his mind. He tried to ignore this, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **Sorry for the random title change. Didn't like "Holding On." I'm bad at picking titles. :P

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Dean turned off the television, swearing under his breath. He couldn't watch any more news. It was starting to physically hurt him every time he turned it on. It was all the same, anyway: Unexplainable deaths. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, everywhere.

They started around two months ago, slowly at first. There were a few groups of deaths at a time. Then it started to increase steadily, the number of deaths rising every day, until there were dozens of deaths every few minutes. Everywhere he looked, Dean found death.

It was terrifying and infuriating at the same time. On one hand, he knew he could be next, and it made him feel a little helpless. People dropped dead everywhere, at any time. There was nothing in the way of stopping his heart next. But on the other hand, he felt nothing but pure anger. What the hell was doing this to people, and why? He wanted nothing more than to ring the neck of whoever was killing innocent people. It needed to stop. Now.

And, as always, it'd be up to him and Sam. He knew they didn't _have_ to do this, but he was pretty sure they would. They were always smack dab in the middle of crap like this. The gates of Hell opening, the apocalypse, the Leviathans… It would always fall on their shoulders, no matter how far they ran.

Dean groaned and fell back onto the bed, pawing at his face. He needed some pie.

He turned over onto his stomach and stretched out to reach his phone on the bedside table. The dull ringtone droned in his ear, and he waited for the click to indicate his brother had answered. "Sammy," he said cheerily, "you still at the store?" He rolled over onto his back again and stared at the yellowing ceiling.

"No, I'm already halfway back to the motel," Sam replied, sounding like he knew where this conversation was going.

"You're gonna have to turn around." Dean could sense the eye roll through the phone, and he smiled to himself. He could hear, in the background of the phone call, people walking around his brother, chatting to each other loudly.

"Not happening."

"It's an emergency," he urged, patting his stomach absentmindedly.

"Pie is not an emergency."

"How did you—"

Dean never finished his sentence. A loud crash could be heard through the receiver, and he shot up off the bed immediately. "Sam?" There was no reply. Instead, there was another crash through the phone, followed by someone screaming. "Sammy, are you okay?"

He was already out the door and in his car, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. His heart pounded in his head, like it always did when he wasn't sure if his brother was okay. The tires squealed as he sped out of the parking lot, going the direction of the store Sam had gone to.

This was the worst kind of situation for him. If he got himself into trouble, it was a little scary. But if Sam got into trouble, Dean wanted to rip something, anything, into pieces, and scream bloody murder. It was terrifying and heartbreaking to him. That was his little brother, and every time he saw Sam, Dean could only see the little kid he used to be, under his protection. If Sam got hurt, it was on Dean. He knew that.

_People dropped dead everywhere, at any time_. Dean swallowed hard and hit the gas pedal, yelling through the phone once more.

* * *

There was a noise in his ears, high-pitched and nauseating. It took up all the space in his head, pushing out any rational thought. He was even having a hard time placing what had happened, and what was happening now.

Sam tried to focus his vision, blinking away the blurry haze. He saw glass, and blood. It was all around him, scattered on the floor, running into the street, seeping into his clothes. Shards of glass were everywhere. He could see them under his body, pressed into his hands. Some of the blood was coming from himself, he could tell. But the cuts didn't hurt, yet.

Sounds started coming through at last, a crescendo into complete chaos. First screams, then shattering glass, then the thump of flesh against concrete. Sam blinked heavily again, gasping in a breath and bracing himself.

He pushed against the sidewalk with his hands, digging the pieces of glass in further. He ignored the sting and stood, looking around dizzily. A woman pushed past him, and he nearly tripped over another lying on the ground. The glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked unsteadily forward.

A fluttering sound came from behind him, so Sam turned around, the movement making his head spin. A man stood before him, calm, unlike everything around him. The man raised a hand and held it towards him, palm facing the sky, inviting him in. From behind his shoulders outstretch a massive pair of wings the color of coal. Where they should be terrifying to him, Sam only found them captivating and, quite frankly, beautiful.

Sam took an uneasy step forward, nearly tripping, but balancing himself in time. He held out his own hand, reaching out his fingers to touch the stranger's palm, all the while staring at the wings stretching out behind the man, entranced.

"_Not him_," a commanding shout echoed through the streets, and suddenly another man was standing between Sam and the stranger. Sam took a step back, startled, blinking heavily again.

The new arrival held up something reflective and sharp, pointing it toward the other in warning. Sam wasn't sure what was going on; he couldn't focus long enough to figure it out. He just knew something was very wrong.

"Sammy!" Sam turned his head in time to see his brother running towards him. He slumped into Dean's embrace, feeling extremely light-headed. His eyes were heavy, and his hands felt numb. He passed out, but not before he caught the name of the stranger who stepped in between him and the other man. Dean called his name out, still gripping his brother protectively.

"Castiel…" Then Sam let go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded, pacing in front of Castiel. He walked back and forth from wall to wall, running his hands over his face like he could scrub away the stress.

Castiel simply watched him, waiting for Dean to catch his breath. But whenever it seemed like the hunter had calmed down, he would glance at his brother passed out on the bed and start up again, striding around the room.

"I prayed to you, Cas," he paused his pacing for a moment, pointing an accusing finger at the angel. "You heard me, didn't you?" Castiel was silent. "_Didn't you_?"

"Dean, I—"

"Goddammit," he yelled, turning on heel and walked to the other side of the room, breathing heavily.

_Castiel…_

Castiel jumped slightly, his vessel's heart stuttering for a moment. The voice in his mind wasn't anyone he knew. It hardly even sounded like a real _voice_, but it had certainly said his name, loud and clear. It had pierced through the murmur of his brothers and sisters like a knife, even more than Dean's prayers could ever do.

"Are you even listening?" Dean's shout brought Castiel out of his stupor, and he stared at the hunter before him, trying to recall what he had just said. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

He couldn't tell Dean. His friend was stressed as it was, dealing with whatever problems were here on earth. He could try to help the brothers however he could, but Castiel had to keep his own problems to himself. That he knew.

"The person that tried to kill your brother was an angel." At this, Dean's mouth snapped shut and he backed up a step. "I don't know why, but the angels are turning their backs on Heaven and killing humans. There are a few who remain. The archangels, mostly, but also the angels who have something to hold onto; something that keeps their faith strong."

Castiel was suddenly aware of how alone he was. His family was usually so vast, an infinite armada. But now the soldiers dwindled here or there, gripping tightly to some small handhold for a while before joining the other team. Castiel wasn't even sure what the other team was, but just the loneliness made him want to join.

"Isn't there anything God can do about it, or something?" Dean asked, sounding baffled. There was confusion in his eyes, but the angel understood. The notion was lost on him, too.

"If there is, He hasn't done it. The angels just keep leaving, one after the other." There was a hollow sound he could hear in his own voice, and it reminded him of his quiet forest in Heaven. He wondered if he would grow cold like that place, too.

"Well, don't worry," Dean said slowly, a caring look on his face. Castiel thought it odd that the hunter should be comforting an angel, but he didn't argue. "We'll do something about it. I promise."

Castiel just nodded curtly, not sure what they could even do to help. He was watching the transition first hand, and he couldn't stop a thing. He could only watch as his family trickled away, faster and faster. How were two hunters – _humans_ at that – supposed to bring them all back? Although, the two brothers had performed more impossible feats before. They never ceased to amaze everyone.

_Castiel…_

Before Dean could catch him startle, Castiel disappeared from the room, reappearing somewhere a few hundred miles away. He didn't want to return to Heaven just yet, but he had to go somewhere to try to escape the whisper.

It wasn't quite a whisper, though. It was more like a sensation or emotion, forming his name with thoughts. It wasn't unpleasant, but Castiel didn't like it. It felt like a pull, gentle and almost imperceptible, but constant.

He closed his eyes and listened.

* * *

Dean and Sam sat on their respective beds, quiet and contemplative. While Dean knew that his brother was coming up with ways to solve this angel problem, he couldn't exactly bring himself to focus on the same. He kept thinking about Castiel.

There was something more going on, Dean was sure. There was something the angel wasn't telling him. Castiel had been too distant while he was here, his eyes glazed over, staring at nothing. That wasn't like Castiel.

And it certainly wasn't like Castiel to completely ignore Dean's prayers. Sure, he sometimes sent an unnecessary message here or there, asking the angel to come and hang out or something. But sometimes Dean prayed because he _needed_ Castiel. Sometimes he honestly needed help, and to know that Castiel could just ignore that made his throat tighten.

Beside him, Sam sighed and moved over to his laptop, pushing it open and starting it up. They shared a glance, and Dean stood, walking to the door.

"I'm going out for a drink," he announced, and Sam looked at him like he knew _drink_ was not going to stay singular very long.

* * *

_You son of a bitch…_

Even in his thoughts, Castiel could tell Dean was drunk. For the past two hours or so, the hunter's comments toward the angel had grown increasingly hostile. Although he knew the remarks were the result of an angry alcoholic binge, they still caused something in Castiel to stir uneasily.

_I am always there when you need me. When the hell are you there for me?_

_Always_, Castiel wanted to say. He would always look out for the Winchesters, not just Dean. They were practically his family. If only the hunter knew that lately Castiel had his ears tuned into the buzz of the angels, waiting— _daring_— any one of them to mention going after the Winchesters again.

_The angels are the ones killing people, huh? Well I swear to God, I will murder you. Don't think I won't, because I will._

That was the last thing Castiel heard from the hunter, and he assumed Dean had passed out. With a small sigh of relief, he focused on listening to his brothers and sisters, trying to find anything resembling a clue to what was going on.

But in the back of his mind, Castiel played what Dean had said over and over again. He knew the hunter probably hadn't meant any of it, and would probably forget he had ever even said it in the morning, but still. It bothered him, but he wasn't sure why.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Three local deaths. Twelve in the district. Sixty-two in the state. Innumerable in the country. God-knows how many overall.

And the numbers were rising.

Sam closed his computer, unable to read any more about what was going on. Everywhere across the globe people were being killed by "winged creatures." At first, people started to think it was a joke. Then, it was a gang thing. More recently, a government conspiracy; that rumor ended quickly after a wing of parliament was slaughtered one afternoon.

Now, people were just terrified. Families were stocking up on bread and butter and hunkering down, hoping for it to pass over. Officials were panicking, though hiding it well. Almost every news channel had gained a segment on the deaths, and each of them had a never-ending list of the deceased that scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Sam pushed the laptop aside, turning to stare at his brother, who was face down on his bed, still in his clothes from the other day. Dean had stumbled in loudly at about four in the morning before collapsing on the bed, his snoring muffled by the pillow.

"Dean," he prompted, waiting a moment. His brother didn't move. "_Dean_," he pressed, met with a guttural snort. He rolled his eyes and picked up one of his own, cheap motel pillows. Sam threw it at his brother as hard as he could, sighing when it simply bounced off of his still body. "That's it," he muttered to himself.

Sam walked up to the sleeping man, knowing good and well he would be earning the punch he was about to receive. But it was two in the afternoon, and goddammit, he was hungry. He lifted his arm up high, aiming for the back of Dean's head.

The flurry of feathers whapping together sounded from behind Sam, making him turn.

"_Dean!_" Castiel shouted, his voice unbelievably loud. Sam swore he could hear a hint of the angel's true voice in the scream, and it made him want to cover his ears.

Beside him, Dean jerked in the bed, turning over with a strangled noise coming from the back of his throat. He blinked and squinted, peering around with a hostile glare. Both his and Sam's looks turned blank, however, when Castiel said something more.

"I think I know what's happening to the angels."

* * *

Dean toyed with a packet of ketchup absentmindedly, not sure if he had the appetite to eat what he had ordered for once. Beside him, his brother was leaning over the table attentively, listening to Castiel as he explained in detail what he had heard on his angel radio.

It wasn't that Dean wasn't listening to him, because he was. He was just focused more on other things. For instance, the fact that his friend was an angel, and the angels were, lately, going insane and killing people. This worried him more than a little bit, considering Castiel didn't have the best track record when it came to staying sane.

He wanted to trust that Castiel could resist whatever it was that was stealing the angels' faith, but there was still a badgering voice in the back of his mind that kept telling him it was hopeless. This thing was strong. It was pulling the angels one by one from Heaven, and Castiel was one of the few still holding on. One can only resist for so long before they have to give in.

"So what exactly does that mean?" Sam asked, and Dean eased his way back into the conversation by folding his arms over one another on the table and staring at the angel, still fingering the ketchup packet absently.

Castiel looked more distressed to Dean than he ever had before, and he had an almost pained look about him when he spoke. "My brothers and sisters seem to be leaving Heaven for, from what I heard, a 'better purpose,' as they put it. I listened in for a while, and I kept hearing them talk about death."

"Like, them dying?" Dean asked.

"No, not like that. The Horseman, Death." At this, Dean set down the packet of ketchup and leaned in further. Castiel cast his eyes downward. "Apparently, they consider Him to be their new Master, so instead of serving our Father, they believe themselves to serve Death."

"But why?" Sam furrowed his brow slightly.

"Because Death is older." Castiel looked back up gravely, his eyes dull and forlorn. "He is absolute and infinite. He will end what our Father has begun, and He will have the final word." He blinked. "Or, that's what I've heard. That's what my brothers and sisters are saying when they leave."

Dean's stomach churned like he was going to be sick. The look in Castiel's eyes had been solemn, his face that of an honest man. Those words were his own, not his brothers' and sisters'.

No. That's not what Castiel thought, and Dean knew it. His angel was as devout as God himself, and that would never change. He was just upset that his family was departing, and that was perfectly reasonable. Castiel would never leave Heaven. Dean was sure.

"So what is Death doing about this? Or God? Or anyone?" Dean's voice was littered with disbelief. "The angels are just up and leaving, and what? Everyone's _letting_ them?"

"There's not much that can be done," Castiel replied. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, making him look small and lonely in the booth they sat at. "The angels that uphold any kind of punishment are leaving. There's no one to keep order in Heaven anymore." He trailed off quietly and looked away. "I don't know how Death is reacting. I'd have to get closer to hear anything like that."

"Well you have to get closer," Sam leaned over the table further, his hands clenching. Castiel shot a look towards him, then to Dean, looking vaguely uneasy.

"I… I can't," he said in a small voice, pressing his back to the seat stiffly.

"Why not?" Sam raised his arms slightly from the table. He looked like he was going to press further, but a petite waitress appeared at the foot of the table. Everyone froze, their jaws snapping shut.

"I've got a double bacon burger," she put a plate in front of Dean, "a ceasar salad for you," she pushed a plate over to Sam, "and another glass of water for you," she gave a cold glass to Castiel, smiling warmly. "Everything look alright?" Sam nodded tightly, removing his arms from the table and leaning back. The moment the waitress walked away, he bent forward again.

"You _have_ to, Cas," he urged.

"I would have to be much closer to the action than I have been lately. As far as I am now, I can't hear much but whispers about what is happening. But if I were to get that close…" Castiel's eyes darted around momentarily.

"Cas," Dean sat up farther in his seat, and Castiel's gaze turned to him. His eyes were troubled and, if Dean didn't know any better, he'd say the angel looked scared. "We have to know how to stop this. People are _dying_, and we need your help." Castiel still looked hesitant, and he looked down at his lap. "Please," he begged.

After a moment, Castiel looked up, his face still slightly downcast. He didn't say anything, but he nodded slowly. The next second, there was the sound of wings, and he was gone, leaving Sam and Dean to eat, though neither of them was really hungry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Castiel was scared. There was no reason for him to deny it any further. He was downright terrified, and he wanted to turn back and run away. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go back to the Winchesters and tell them he couldn't do it, and, more than anything, he wanted to tell them why.

He wanted to shout out in frustration, to grip his hair and pull tightly like a child does when they throw fit, as if those things would make it better. As if those things could take away the danger, the fear, and the pain.

Because the danger was apparent. He could feel it creeping up on him, and he braced himself for the blitzkrieg it would bring. The fear was crippling, to the point where he could hardly move, even though every nerve in his body was sending signals to fly off. The pain was quite possibly the worst. It was a fist in the center of his chest, the bony fingers tightening every time he breathed, nails digging in sharply. No matter what he did, the pain lingered, and he was beginning to worry about it. The worry, ironically, only made it worse. There was no escape.

Castiel smoothed his fingers over his coat, letting a stream of air out of his mouth. If anyone could see him now, he was sure they would laugh. What a site he was, too. An angel of the Lord, terrified of nothing more than his family. Here he was, standing alone, his vessel's heart beating rapidly, and he was _petrified_. He could smite a thousand demons, but make him listen in on his brothers and sisters and Castiel instantly became a coward.

He was pitiful.

Before he could decide to turn away and never look back, Castiel closed his eyes to focus. He had promised Dean he would do this. He had to. He was perhaps the only one in the world who could help Sam and Dean save everyone. And of course, they could very well be the ones to save everyone. The Winchesters had a history of that sort of thing. So he'd be damned if he didn't help them this one more time.

Castiel didn't even give himself a moment to breathe before he opened up his mind, letting the full force of his family's thoughts and speech run through his mind as it once had.

_We've begun our journey already; there is no point in turning back now. We will earn the respect. It is only a matter of time…_

_ Brothers… Sisters… what we are doing here is beautiful, admirable… _

_ We have never been so close, so strong…_

Castiel realized he hadn't been breathing, and he sucked in a small breath, trying to clear his head, which had suddenly become very crowded. He still couldn't hear anything useful; it was all vague, muffled fragments. He knew he had to listen closer, and before he could think better of it, he pushed forward.

_He will love us, I am sure…_

_ He will see our good work and praise us…_

_ Approval unlike anything we have received in the past, my brother… More than our Father could ever give us… More than we could ever dream of…_

_ Trust us, Brother… It is peaceful here, and rewarding…_

_ Come, please… We need your help… We need everyone's help…_

Castiel jerked with a start, realizing the voices seemed to be pointed at him, calling him forward. He could pick out the voices of his family, each and every one. His brothers and sisters were happy, that he knew. They sounded at ease, and even their thoughts gave off a calming feeling. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch them, really feel the comfort they offered.

But then again, he knew if he grabbed hold, he may never let go. The soft, caressing promises threatened, albeit gently, to take him away and never give him back. It excited and frightened him at the same time.

Dean's plea for him to find out what was going on persisted in his mind, and Castiel nodded to himself, opening his mind tentatively.

_Castiel…_

He forced himself not to flinch away, instead focusing his mind on the call, not quite touching it, but no longer at a safe distance.

_Why do you linger, Brother? Why do you not join us? We are your family…_

_ We can protect you, Castiel, like our Father never did… You have been hurt so many times… When was it last that He helped you to heal? _

_ We are a family again… We are a sole purpose…_

_ We are so strong… _

Castiel could feel himself growing tired. He wanted to fall forward, to be caught by the comforting voices coming his way. There were so many angels pulling him in, he wasn't sure if he could hold back for too long. They tugged him forward, gently yet strongly, and the further he let his grip loosen, the more relaxed he felt. The fist in his chest was letting loose, and the worry in his head was dwindling. A warm embrace was wrapping itself around him, hushing the panic that had stirred in his stomach.

_Why… _Castiel managed to cast out his own voice, though it sounded meek next to the others. _Why are you killing innocent people? _

_Castiel, you must understand…_

_Understand, Brother… Listen to reason…_

_It is for our new purpose… He will love us for our sacrifices… He will embrace us as His own children, His own creation… _

At this, Castiel leaned into the warm voices, trying to ignore the comforting sensation so he could focus on the message. _Who is He? What kind of Father would wish his children to commit genocide against a race that has done nothing?_

_He has not wished it personally, Brother… We are doing this for Him out of our love… our devotion…_

_He will thank us for this… He will love us…_

_Humans are God's creation… We will give our new Father the gift of their death… Their end will be our beginning…_

He wanted to learn more. He wanted to learn the real purpose, and how the angels were carrying it out. He wanted to see it first hand, and learn exactly what was happening and why. He wanted to know how it felt, to be part of this purpose…

Castiel lurched his mind back, recoiling instinctively, trying to pull away from the warmth. This was wrong. He wasn't supposed to give in. He was here to spy, to learn what was happening to his family, so he could help things get back to normal. And now he wanted to change everything and leave his home. He wanted to join this… this… He didn't even know what to call it. Revolution sounded too grand; riot sounded too childish. This was something terrible and big, something that couldn't have a name put on it.

_Castiel, please… _

_Brother, I promise you it is better here… We have a better purpose…_

Panicking, Castiel opened his eyes and flew away, farther than his secluded spot in Heaven, past where he had ever gone before. He was getting himself lost, but he didn't care. The insistent tug on his mind was growing stronger, pulling his entire being now.

_Do not try to run… We only want to help…_

_That feeling you are having… That pain in your soul… It will only get worse where you are… _This voice was different; it was new. Castiel paused, trying to remember where he had heard it before. Then it hit him that this was that original whisper that had passed over him, tickling his mind and catching his interest. The voice was as feather-soft as ever, lulling him in. _Come with me, Castiel… You can be happy…_

_No… I… I can't… _Castiel withdrew his mind, but it was too late. The voices had access now, and they weren't letting go. He covered his ears, though he knew it was futile. He bent over and shook his head, willing them to leave him be.

_Why? There is nothing holding you back, Castiel… Your God… Is he there? Is he asking you to stay? Is he giving you reason to not join us? _

_Well… _It was true. Castiel had wondered it before briefly, but now it was made obvious. His Father really hadn't done a thing to keep the angels from leaving.

_Exactly… He doesn't care about you… I do, Castiel… I love you…_

_No. _Castiel stood up straight, his fists clenched. There were voices clouding his mind, urging him and tugging him in every which direction. They were soothing, but it was too chaotic to feel calm anymore. He felt pressured and scared and tormented, and he just wanted it to stop. _Leave me be…_

_Please, Castiel…_

_Brother, please…_

Castiel wanted to scream. He had to break free, to get away. As it was, the thoughts he was sending were more powerful than they were in the beginning, though he felt weaker than ever. _The answer is no. There is no please. I cannot join you, and it is as simple as that. I will not._

_But why?_

_I will not._

_There is no reason, Castiel…_

_I will not!_

Castiel, with the last of his wavering energy, left in a hurry, feeling hazy and lost, and more than anything, filled with terror.

* * *

**Notes: **I am very sorry if this chapter was hard to follow... I tried to make it simple, but a lot of nameless angels talking one after the other might be a little confusing.


End file.
